CHAPTER 3

Lucy

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SUMMER NIGHTS IN THE barrio are always hot. My grandparents live in the trailer park in San Jose. Their mobile home is tiny and reeks of vitamins and urine. It traps heat like a greenhouse. The filthy brown carpet dirties my bare feet on the bottoms, and the walls are brittle and hollow so no one ever truly gets privacy. I’ve been sleeping on the floor of the living room, on an air mattress with Ruth. It works for me, because tonight I’m sneaking out. If Mom can just pick up and leave, so can I. It’s only been two days, and I already need out of this tin box.

I normally spend summers here. I’ve grown up with the girls in this trailer park, playing hopscotch and riding bikes around the circular drive. Over the years, hopscotch turned into makeup parties and flirting with cute boys at the mall. I haven’t been here in months, though, so I’m anxious to see what my friends are up to.

The house has been quiet for half an hour, but my sister took forever to fall asleep. I’m fifteen minutes late to meet Rosa at the street light on Jackson Ave. so I have to be quick. I trade my pajamas for cut-off jean shorts and a white half-tank that shows my flat stomach. My dark blonde hair is staticky from the air mattress so I lick my palms and tie it into a tight ponytail, flattening all the strays with my spit. I find Mom’s makeup bag at the foot of my blow-up bed in her green duffle. The meager light shining through the cracked curtains helps me light up her compact mirror enough to draw on thick black eyeliner and apply a heavy layer of mascara. Then I’m out.

The glass door slides roughly along its track, but I do it slowly and listen for anyone stirring. Nothing. I grab the blue zip-up sweater from the back of my grandmother’s armchair and inch the door closed again. I’ve never snuck out before. My heart doesn’t know whether to feel good or freak out. I ignore it either way and jog through the warm city air toward the street.

Rosa is where she said she’d be, waiting with another girl I don’t know. I wave and slow to a walk.

“Hey Rosa,” I say, breathing hard.

“Fuck, Guera.” She puts her hands on her hips and her large hoop earrings swing beneath her gelled black curls.

I smile at the nickname she has for me. It’s Spanish for “white girl.” It started as a joke between us, but has turned into my name.

“What’s up?”

“Fucking late. And don’t call me Rosa. It’s Ro now.”

I’ve known Rosa for years, but something is different about her this time. The amount of makeup she’s wearing makes her look older, and the way she says “fuck” so confidently makes me feel like a child. I study the way her lips are stenciled with the same liner she’s drawn into her eyebrows to make them perfect. Next time I’ll do mine that way.

“Sorry,” I say, crossing my arms so I can check how badly I’m sweating.

“This is Leti,” she says, but she’s not even looking at me. Her eyes are wandering as if she’s keeping lookout.

Leti nods. Her dark brown ponytail is tighter than mine, but her ears stick out and her teeth aren’t straight. I might not be as pretty as Ro, but I’m prettier than Leti.

“Give me that sweater,” Ro says, unzipping it from my body. “We can’t wear that shit around here. Black, gray or white. No blue.”

I don’t question her. “Okay. Cool.” She pulls it off of my arms and throws it over the fence, into the hedges of some stranger’s street-side house.

“Come on, we’re already late.”

Ro leads the way to the pizza parlor around the corner.

Marcelo’s is the hot new place to meet up, but we’ve been coming here ever since we stole all that change from the community Laundromat a few years ago. I smile as I remember us hauling a hoodie full of quarters all the way here and hiding in the booth seats to count it.

Inside it’s dingy. The once white linoleum is scuffed grey and all the cracks are black with dirt. Nobody seems to care. There are a lot of people here for this time of night. Mostly school age kids and a few sketchy adults who might be homeless.

I sit on the red pleather booth seat while they order, because I can’t speak Spanish. It feels awkward to be sitting alone, so I pretend to tie my Converse sneaker. When I look up, there is someone sitting across from me—the cutest boy I’ve ever seen. Milk chocolate skin from being in the sun too long, thick black lashes around large green eyes. His dark hair is spiked and there is definition in his shoulders. He has to be a senior in high school or maybe he graduated already.

He cocks his head, looks me up and down. “What up. I’m Angel.”

I start to sweat. There’s no AC in this back alley pizza oven. What am I supposed to say? Hi. My name’s Lucy. You’re hot and I’m fifteen.

“Hey, Angel. What you doin’ here?” Ro scooches me over with her hip and slides a slice of pepperoni toward me. Thank God.

I dab at the grease with a napkin, but don’t take a bite.

“Just saw some fine ass sittin’ here lost and alone. Thought I’d come and take a bite before she got snagged up by some scavengers.” He looks to the left corner where there are a group of boys playing rough and being loud.

Ro laughs and Leti follows. “So where’s Toño?”

He shrugs. “He’ll show. He had a few things to handle.”

“Right. Well my pad’s hooked up tonight so we got a place to kick it,” Leti says, smiling and bumping elbows with Ro.

“Mom’s out on the poles again, huh, Leti?” Angel smirks.

“Shove it, Angel. You know I hate that shit.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with some female entertainment, honey.” He winks at Leti and glances at me as if judging my reaction to his charm. My eyes dart the other way.

On our walk back to Leti’s house, Angel keeps close to me. He grazes my arm with his while I listen to them talk about people I don’t know. Even though it’s late, the city is never still. Traffic lights buzz above us as we pass, cars creep slowly by, slinking around in the night. The summer air is warm enough that I don’t miss my sweater, but I still get goose bumps when Angel brushes by. Leti’s blabbing his ear off, but I can feel his eyes on me even though I don’t look.

Leti’s house is another tin box in the trailer park, only I can tell her mom is trying to make it feel like a home. It’s tidy and there are plastic flowers in the center of their beat up formica kitchen table.

Leti takes Angel’s hand and pulls him toward her blue corduroy couch, leaving me at the doorway. I stand awkwardly, clutching my elbows to cover my bare stomach. Ro takes a few beers from the fridge and passes them out.

“You want one, Guera?” she asks.

I glance at Angel who is tickling Leti on the sofa. “Um. No. I’m good.” I never liked the taste of beer.

It takes me a few minutes, but I finally manage to sit down without feeling like I’m interrupting something.

“Where the fuck is the music up in here?” Leti leans over me to flip on the radio by the armrest. “I wanna dance.”

Reggaeton music blares from the small speakers, and I wonder for the first time tonight what the hell I’m doing here. My grandma hates this kind of music. She talks about how rude the neighbors are for blasting this stuff all the time. Just as I’m about to get up and leave, Leti flings her long dark ponytail in some sort of spiral dance move and sloshes her beer onto my lap.

She laughs like it’s hysterical and keeps moving, grabbing Ro’s hands and pulling her into a salsa tango.

Angel is the only one who reacts. He grabs the doily from the easy chair armrest and pats my wet shorts with it. I freeze, too shocked, excited, and terrified all at once to move.

He shakes his head. “That girl is loca,” he says, so close I can smell the mix of beer and cologne coming from him.

“Yo, yo, yo!” The door busts open, and Angel jumps up as another older guy walks in with a bottle of vodka. “An-to-ni-o in the house!”

“What up, Toño.” Angel gives him knuckles and some other weird handshake while I sink deeper into the couch.

This new guy is tall, like 6-foot. He’s dark like Angel, but not as cute. The diamond stud in his right ear glints in the trailer light as he looks at me. Neither of us says anything.

Ro’s scream makes me jolt. Its high pitch is still ringing in my ears when she jumps into Toño’s arms and wraps her legs around him. She kisses his cheeks, his lips, his neck and for a second I’m pretty sure the two of them forget we’re watching. Either that or they don’t care.

I lean over to Angel who is back on the couch with me. “Why is she so excited? Was he gone for a long time?” I feel like it’s a stupid question, but I don’t want there to be an awkward silence.

He shrugs one of his shoulders as Toño and Ro flirt in the kitchen. “’Round here you never know if you gonna see the person the next morning.”

I give him a look that explains I have no idea what he is talking about. He smirks at me and turns to speak to Leti.

“Yo Leti, what’s this guera know about what she’s in wit, girl?”

She shuts the fridge and laughs. “She’ll catch on quick. Give the hina some time. She has some things to learn. Ro and I plan on showin’ her a few things tonight.” The crimped bottle cap hisses as she pops it off her beer. “We’ll see how she handles.”

The way she says “handles” makes me swallow down the sour taste in my mouth. Something doesn’t feel right. I need to get out of here. I just don’t know what to say.

“Yeah,” Ro speaks up from Toño’s lap. “Let’s show her a thing or two. I’m ready for this shit!” She pumps the air with her beer and leans back to kiss Toño one last time before she jumps to her feet.

Before I can ask what they’re talking about, Leti has me by the wrist. She pulls me out the door and into the yellow light of the blacktop driveway that encircles the trailer park.

“Okay, Guera,” she says. “We’re going to show you how to throw fists a’ight?”

She’s smiling like she’s doing me a favor, like I should be excited. I nod, genuinely interested in learning to defend myself, especially around here.

Angel watches from the porch with an equally eager smile. “Take it slow on her, Leti. I don’t think she knows what’s coming.”

I’m still looking at him, trying to figure out what he means when the first fist hits me like a baseball bat to the back of the head. I fall forward, my brain pulsing from the shock, and catch myself with my palm and forearm. The rough gravel scrapes my hands as I try to get back on my feet.

I’m squinting as I scramble up to standing. My chest heaves. I’ve never been hit before. Maybe some slap fights with girls when I was a kid, but never like this.

I’m not sure if it’s a survival instinct or fear that fuels my rage, but I’m pissed. In a matter of seconds I’m flying toward her. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I want to make her feel pain.

Rage does nothing for me. She sees me coming and throws me to the ground like I’m a practice dummy. I hesitate, breathing into the concrete and waiting for the next punch.

“You’re feisty. I like it,” she says as she reaches an arm out to help me up. I don’t take it. “Oh come on.” She laughs and pulls me up by my elbow.

“I think she’s got it in her,” Ro yells from the stairs. The three of them are watching with sick smiles like we’re the next show at the poor man’s coliseum. “We got to teach her a few tricks but she wants to fight...Did you see that? She flew at you. I wasn’t expecting her to come at you at all.”

As my heart slows, my fear is replaced with a rush, and I find myself smiling back.

She gives me a nod and we face each other again. I’m not about to make the same mistake twice. I keep my eyes on her, guessing where she’ll move. I notice her lips tighten and wrinkle into a purse as she prepares to swing. She misses, and I raise my eyebrows at her, daring her to try again.

“Okay, Guera...” Her face turns serious. It scares me and I panic, holding my hands up as she makes impact. My palm blocks her fist, but my own knuckles knock against my jaw and it hurts.

I back up until there is space between us, and her lips purse again. Her tell.

As she comes for me, I land my first punch to the face. My knuckles slide along her cheekbone, and I wince at the feel of my hand folding against bone. I need to keep tighter fists.

The others cheer, rooting for the underdog, and just as she’s about to turn crazy, Ro comes down the stairs.

“All right, don’t get loca.” She saunters over and puts a rough arm around my neck. “We don’t like marking up our homies, but when it comes to rivals no holding back, okay? Make them wear the shame on their face.”

I learn a lot that night. I learn that colors mean different gangs, and it isn’t just blue and red like the TV says. It’s almost every color. There are west sides and east sides and north sides and south sides. They all have different names. There are mafias and locos and just small crews.

“Our click is called VC. We’re norteños, north side,” Ro says after she takes a long drag from her cigarette. She finishes blowing out the smoke. “Now you one of us.”

They catch me up on the basics. Each gang marks up the blocks and has the city sectioned off, and if you don’t stay on your turf you get a green light. Green light means anyone can come at you any way they want and it’s considered a fair fight. Even the cops know most of these rules, but when they try to interfere they’re usually too late.

You can’t just go up to anyone and start shit, though. There are rules you have to follow. You have to have a reason and permission from your leader or be defending something. Each group has a leader who calls the shots. Theirs is Toño. You have to answer to this person and follow every order you’re given. You do it out of respect. This leader has to earn the leader position, as you have to earn your right to be a part of the gang.

Most of the time you have to kill someone, or do something that shows your loyalty. The leader assigns you this task. Sometimes it’s easier depending on who brings you in. They do a lot of recruiting, too, if they’ve lost a lot of members or are just looking to grow or expand territory. This is when you really have to prove your loyalty.

There are meetings you have to go to. The meetings let you know who is rivaling who. Who is alive and who’s dead. Who the new members are and their introduction. It’s also a way for them to find out who has tags. By knowing who has a tag on their head you know whose back to watch.

You always have your homies’ back. You turn on your homies, or don’t get their back when they need it, then you’re turning on your gang, and they’ll turn on you. Someone is always tagged for something. You get tagged by killing someone from the other side or somehow starting shit.

They say I’ll learn as time goes on, that it’s easier to understand when I see it. Which is good because I’m really confused about all the rules and details. I’m not sure I even understand them all correctly, but I take what I can and try to remember it, quietly hoping I don’t get in too deep. It doesn’t matter, I remind myself. I’m only here for a few weeks. That’s how it’s always been with summers and vacations. We stay for a while, then leave. Whatever this is with Mom can’t last forever. I’ll eventually go home, so why not be part of their secret club while I’m here?

“You did good tonight,” Angel says as he walks me to my grandparents’ trailer. “I was impressed. You got some real fight in you.”

“Thanks. I didn’t really know I had it in me. I can’t believe I hit her. I hope she isn’t mad now.”

“Mad? She rocked your ass. She can’t be mad for the one punch you did get in. But you learned some stuff tonight. It’ll take some time but you’ll get better fast, and we’ll have you out there fighting the world in no time.”

“Thanks. Will you be there tomorrow?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“’Kay, then I’ll see you then.”

I smile and give him a hug before sneaking quietly back into the house.